


Your Royal Assholeness

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Adara Birthday Celebration [19]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Don’t copy to another site, Established Relationship, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Injured Stiles Stilinski, King Derek Hale, M/M, Mates, Modern Royalty, Royalty, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-23 23:11:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17089523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: The second he walked in, Derek growled loudly and was beside him in an instant, reaching out to lightly touch his neck.“Who did this?”“What the hell is going on?” Stiles hissed in response.“Your majesty.”Stiles turned when the woman spoke, positive he’d misheard, but she was on one knee with her head bowed, and the wolves who’d all followed had done the same.“Your what?” Stiles demanded, shocked, turning back to Derek.





	Your Royal Assholeness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/gifts).



> Happy Birthday [Adara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/pseuds/adara)!!!
> 
> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis

When they heard about the wolves coming into town, the pack knew they would be ready for them. They’d dealt with so many things in their lives that it wasn’t like they were even concerned anymore.

Dragon is burning down all the buildings in town? Boring.

Pixies are attacking hikers in the Preserve? Third time this week.

Manticores were going after all the people who came too close to their lair? Yawn.

All in all, there was basically _nothing_  they hadn’t seen or had to fight off, so hearing a new pack of wolves was rushing into their territory at breakneck speed wasn’t anything of concern. It was just another Tuesday.

Stiles had actually been out getting groceries for dinner, because even if he didn’t live at home anymore, by God he was going to make sure his dad ate healthy food! So he was out at the store buying vegetables, also grabbing a few things they needed to restock at the loft since Derek had forgotten to buy coffee _again_ —seriously, he was lucky Stiles loved him, or the no coffee thing would be a deal-breaker. He’d finished paying and was bringing everything back to the Jeep when he paused, because he _knew_  someone was watching him.

It was the middle of the day, and there were people everywhere, so he wasn’t concerned for his safety. The wolves didn’t like being exposed, so he was unlikely to get attacked in the middle of a grocery store parking lot, but he wasn’t exactly interested in having people follow him home, either.

He figured once he got in the Jeep, he could call Derek and Scott and they could get the pack together to wherever Stiles led his new stalkers. So, he just went to the Jeep and loaded the groceries in the back. Once he was behind the wheel and buckled in, he’d just started the car and shifted to back out when he caught movement in the rearview mirror and had claws at his throat a second later.

_Always check the back seat, Stiles,_ he thought to himself angrily. What was he, an amateur? He couldn’t _believe_  he’d been stupid enough not to check the back seat.

“Do you mind?” he asked dryly. “This is extremely uncomfortable.”

“You will bring me to Derek Hale _now_ ,” the man said. His voice was low, and rough. He sounded dangerous, and it didn’t take a genius to know he was in full Beta shift.

“Love to. First, you need to die, and once you get to hell, just take the first left, you can’t miss him.” Stiles let out a grunt and pressed himself back further into his seat, the claws digging into the soft skin of his neck.

“I will not ask again, _human_. Bring me to Derek Hale, or your companions will suffer the consequences.”

“Pretty sure my ‘companions’ are perfectly fine,” Stiles bit out. “You meet my Alpha yet? He doesn’t take kindly to people threatening his best friend.” He let out another grunt, the claws breaking skin. He could feel blood welling up, droplets sliding down his neck, but he was _not_  bringing this guy to Derek.

The rest of this crazy guy’s pack were probably going to follow, and he was only proven right when the passenger side door opened and a woman climbed in. She was dressed in a black pant-suit, her hair pulled back in a tight bun and an extremely severe expression on her face. She looked to be in her fifties, and while her eyes flashed yellow at him, she exuded the presence of an Alpha.

“What’s taking so long, Patrick?” she demanded, eyes shifting to the man in the back seat.

“The human won’t cooperate.” He dug his claws in further and Stiles let out a noise. It wasn’t a whimper, but it was clearly a sound of pain and probably a little bit of distress. The blood was flowing a little faster than he was comfortable with, staining the collar of his shirt.

“We won’t find him if you kill their human. They will retaliate, and might harm our charge. Try to control yourself.” She turned back to Stiles, eyes still gold. “You reek of him. We know you are aware of where he is. You will bring us to Derek Hale.”

“Sorry, not feeling in a tour-guidey mood today,” Stiles forced out. “Come back when tourist season starts up, maybe I’ll feel more accommodating.”

He let out a loud cry when she slammed her clawed hand down against his leg, biting into his skin and squeezing hard. His jeans were stained red instantly.

“We have ways of making you comply. You have held him long enough, if you do not release Derek Hale, there will be consequences for your pack.”

“Held?” Stiles asked, struggling to ignore the pain in his neck _and_  leg, now. “What are you talking about?”

“We do not condone harming humans,” the woman continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “But if your pack requires some persuading to release him, rest assured we are prepared to battle.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles demanded, wondering if the pain was muddling his brain. “We’re not holding anyone! Who the hell are you asking us to release?!”

“Derek Hale.”

Stiles was positive he was hallucinating. Shit, maybe he’d lost so much blood he was dying and this was some weird pre-death hallucination.

“We’re not holding Derek, what?” Stiles slowly raised both hands. “I’m going to reach for my phone. Can you both try not to kill me?”

The woman narrowed her eyes but nodded and Stiles carefully reached for his pocket. It was hard getting it out, since he still had claws in his neck _and_  his leg, but he managed to pull it out and unlock it. He scrolled to Derek’s number, because _clearly_  there was a misunderstanding right now, and he tapped his contact. When it confirmed he was being called, Stiles put the phone on speaker.

It rang twice before Derek answered, voice soft. It often was when he spoke to Stiles now, considering they’d been dating for the better part of four years.

_“You’re not calling to berate me about the coffee, are you? I promise I’ll get some when I head to the store later.”_

The woman’s expression went from severe to confused, then back to severe. Her eyes shifted from the phone to Stiles and back down again.

_“Stiles?”_ Derek asked, because the silence evidently stretched for too long. His voice hardened instantly when he spoke again. _“Who is this? Where’s Stiles?”_

“Are you Derek Hale?” the woman asked, voice firm, but expression a little less severe. She looked more confused than anything else, like she didn’t understand why Derek had a phone and how he could be speaking so casually to a supposed enemy.

_Why_  she thought Stiles was an enemy, he had no idea. She could obviously smell Derek on him, and they’d had sex last night, so that was probably still potent. Stiles hadn’t showered before leaving the house, so he was sure he smelled extremely Derek-y.

_“If you touch him, I’ll tear the skin off your bones,”_ Derek said darkly down the line.

The woman glanced down at her claws imbedded in Stiles’ leg, then looked back up into his face. He was still pressing himself back against the seat, back of his head against the headrest and chest rising and falling faster than usual because _ow_ , he was in pain. Claws in his skin tended to do that.

“Prove you are Derek Hale,” the woman said. “We require confirmation.”

There was a long pause on the other end, then Derek cursed. _“You’re from the council.”_

Apparently, that was proof enough and the woman hastily removed her hand from Stiles’ leg. The man behind him also pulled away and Stiles let out a harsh breath, reaching up to touch his neck. There was blood all over his fingers, and he really hoped they were just flesh wounds, because bleeding out sounded like a horrible way to go.

_“Did you hurt Stiles?”_

Neither party answered, which had Derek growling down the line angrily.

_“Did you **hurt** Stiles?!” _

“I’m okay,” Stiles said, still poking at his neck. “As long as I don’t bleed out.”

The woman looked alarmed at his words and Derek growled again down the line.

_“Are you sure you’re okay?”_

“I’ll live. What the hell is going on?”

_“Bring them back to the loft. I’ll... well, I guess I’ll explain when you get here.”_  Derek sounded like he didn’t _want_  to explain but he obviously knew he would have to.

“Are you sure?” Stiles didn’t really want people who’d tried to kill him knowing where they lived.

_“Yeah. Just get here. I’ll call Scott.”_

“Okay...” Stiles waited until Derek hung up, then glanced at the woman. She looked pale, eyes locked on Stiles’ leg, like she was trying to will his skin to stitch itself back together. Unfortunately, Stiles wasn’t a Werewolf, so that wasn’t going to happen.

Sighing and hoping the stuff in the trunk survived this conversation since he doubted he’d be getting the groceries inside any time soon, he pulled out of his spot and headed out of the lot. Two black Mercedes were following him instantly, and he figured it was the woman’s friends. Stiles’ brain was racing through every scenario possible. He had no idea what a council was, and no idea why these people thought Derek was being held captive. Derek obviously knew who they were, and he was extremely unhappy to have them in Beacon Hills.

He hadn’t sounded worried, though. Well, he’d been worried about Stiles, but not for himself. Not about these people. Stiles had no idea what was going on, and he was kind of eager for answers, at this point.

When he pulled into the lot of the large, abandoned building he and Derek lived in, he saw a few cars already parked there, and Deaton was waiting for them at the door. Stiles parked the Jeep and then climbed out, the woman and Patrick following him. A few other wolves exited the other cars and Stiles just sped-walked towards Deaton, giving him a ‘what the fuck?!’ look.

Deaton’s features didn’t change as Stiles approached, but he did touch his shoulder lightly when Stiles reached him, frowning at the injuries on his neck, and then looking down at the one on his leg. The other group stopped a little ways in front of them and Deaton turned to face the woman.

“He will not be pleased. This one is his mate.”

The woman looked like someone had just force-fed her rat poison and all the wolves shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other.

“What the hell is going on?” Stiles demanded.

“Inside, Stiles. He’s waiting for you.”

When Deaton motioned them inside, hand still on Stiles’ shoulder, he turned his back on the wolves as well and walked into the building. Instead of heading for the stairs against the wall that led to the loft, they headed for the large room in the back where the old train cars were still housed. Derek really needed to move, but then again, Stiles kind of loved this place. It was cool.

The second he walked in, Derek growled loudly and was beside him in an instant, reaching out to lightly touch his neck.

“Who did this?”

“What the hell is going on?” Stiles hissed in response.

“Your majesty.”

Stiles turned when the woman spoke, positive he’d misheard, but she was on one knee with her head bowed, and the wolves who’d all followed had done the same.

“Your what?” Stiles demanded, shocked, turning back to Derek.

He looked extremely unhappy, jaw clenched and hands gripping Stiles’ arms tightly, as if scared to let him go. Stiles could see the rest of the pack out of the corner of his eye, and they all shared a confused look.

“Who did this?” Derek demanded.

No one spoke for a long while, but eventually the woman said, “We thought you were being held captive. You never responded to any of the council’s summons.”

“I thought my silence made it clear I wasn’t interested,” Derek said coldly. “I ask again: who did this?”

The woman let out a slow breath. “We apologize. We didn’t realize he was your mate. We didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“If I have to ask one more time, there is going to be a problem.”

“I did,” Patrick said, head still bowed. “I was the one.”

“I was also responsible,” the woman said quietly.

“This is how you treat humans?” Derek asked angrily. “Maybe I _should_  go to the council, clean it up. You know how my family feels about humans, and you hurt, not only a human, but my _mate_. This is unacceptable.”

“Dude,” Stiles said, forcing Derek’s gaze back to him. He flailed his hands slightly while saying, “What the fuck is going on?”

“Do you not know to whom you speak?” the woman asked, glancing up at Stiles.

Derek turned to bare his teeth at her, eyes flashing blue.

“Perhaps it would be best for you not to speak out of turn,” Deaton said from behind Stiles, sounding amused. “You’ve already caused yourself enough problems, have you not?”

“Derek?” Scott asked uncertainly. “Who are these people?”

“They’re part of the council,” Derek muttered. “The Werewolf council. It’s a group of wolves who band together in an attempt to keep order. It’s not as widely known as it used to be, but they’re the reason the Alpha pack finally disbanded.”

“Oh,” Scott said. “And you’re... part of it?” he guessed.

Stiles just stared at Derek, because they had said ‘your _majesty_.’

“Holy shit, Derek, are you like, Werewolf _royalty_?!” Stiles demanded.

Derek winced, lips downturned. He was clearly unhappy to be having this conversation. “My family is royalty,” he muttered. “My mom tried to pull us away from it, mostly. Beacon Hills is our land, and the council always wanted her to take her place in New York, where she should’ve been, overseeing everything. She refused.”

“Is that why you went to New York when everyone died?” Stiles asked, brain reeling. Derek was a royal?

Was Derek fucking _King_  of the Werewolves?!

“Yeah,” Derek muttered. “Laura was next in line, so we went there for help. When everything happened and we came back, and she died, it meant I was next in line. It’s kind of why Peter hates me so much. Once I die, he’s next, and you know how Peter is with power.”

“The council has been waiting for you to return,” the woman said, head bowed once more. “It is your duty to—”

“I told the council my decision,” Derek snapped. “I’m not a King, I’m just a man. I have no interest in returning to New York.”

“Can they, like, stand up or something?” Stiles whispered. “It’s really weird having them all bowing like that.”

“No, they can’t,” Derek said coldly. “They touched you, they’re lucky I don’t have them killed.”

That was a little dark for Derek, and Stiles figured he was just playing up his birthright. He knew Derek would _never_  have anyone killed for touching him, no matter how pissed he was. And _wow_  was he _pissed_. Stiles had never _seen_  him this pissed.

“Return to New York, and tell everyone I am not interested. You can call me your King all you want, but I’m never going to be one. And if _any_  of you ever come back here, you _tell me_ before you show up. You don’t enter my territory without permission and you do _not_  touch any member of the McCall pack. If you do, there will be consequences.”

The woman at the front inclined her head in understanding. There was silence for a moment, and then slowly, the wolves stood, keeping their eyes lowered, and backed out of the room. Once they’d exited, Stiles listened to them all leave the building. Eventually, cars started and pulled away, leaving the pack alone.

Stiles turned and immediately punched Derek in the chest. “You’re _royalty_?!”

“The Hales are the oldest and most noble of Werewolves,” Deaton said while Derek rubbed at the injury. Stiles doubted it had hurt, considering, but he looked like he was trying to be as pathetic as possible in hopes of Stiles not being _too_  mad.

“Why didn’t you tell us?!” Stiles demanded. “Derek, you put your life in danger _all_  the time! If you die, Peter’s in charge! I don’t want Peter in charge!”

“Seriously,” Scott said, moving forward. “This is kind of a big secret, how could you keep this from us?”

“Because it doesn’t _matter_ ,” Derek insisted, looking a little desperate, eyes locked on Stiles and hands still gripping his upper arms. “It doesn’t matter that I was a Prince, and it doesn’t matter that I’m now a King. I’m not interested, it was never anything I wanted. Laura was always ready to be what the council needed, and when we went there, she’d started learning everything and was doing so well. I just sat back and let her do as she pleased. When she came back and she was murdered, I knew what that meant for me. I didn’t _want_  that. I’m not the kind of person who sits back and makes decisions.”

“Probably a good thing, you make horrible decisions,” Stiles cut in.

Derek winced, hands tightening on his arms to an almost painful degree. “I _like_  being here. This is my land, my ancestors’ land. This territory is home to me. _You_  are home to me. This pack, these people, everything here. I want to stay here. I don’t _want_  to go to New York.”

“Who said anything about making you go to New York?” Stiles asked, turning to Scott. “Did we tell him to go to New York?”

“I wouldn’t want to go to New York,” Scott agreed, shrugging. “It’s cold there.”

“It’s cold here, too,” Stiles insisted, rolling his eyes, turning back to Derek. He looked so worried, like he’d fucked everything up. Stiles sighed and flicked his forehead, trying to make those frown lines disappear. “Stop looking so worried. You’re just Derek to us. We’re not going to let some council bully you into doing what they want.”

“Though how concerned should we be about Stiles?” Lydia asked, eying him slightly. “Is it possible they’ll come after him as a way to get Derek to do what they ask?”

“No,” Deaton said. “One does not attack a wolf’s mate, it’s bad form. They certainly wouldn’t attack the King’s mate, that would be grounds for severe punishment. That Derek let them go with nothing more than a reprimand for touching Stiles is already unheard of.”

“Shit, are they going to think you’re weak?” Stiles blurted out.

“No, they’ll think I’m capable of mercy,” Derek muttered. “Which is what my mother was like, so it’s not unusual I’d be the same way. But no one on the council ever touched my dad.” He released one of Stiles’ arms so he could reach up and touch his chin. He made him tilt his head, eyes raking over the marks on his neck. “We should get this cleaned up. Your leg, too. I’m sorry.”

“Eh, it’s fine.” Stiles waved one hand dismissively. “All in a day’s work for my King.”

Derek sighed. “You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not on your life. I’m gonna tell dad I’m dating a King. Hell, I’m gonna tell everyone I know that I’m dating a King.” He turned to Scott then, grinning. “Hey, did you know I’m dating your _King_?”

“You’re going to be impossible to live with,” Scott sighed.

“He’s already impossible to live with.” Derek kissed his forehead. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Yes, your _majesty_.”

“Stiles, I swear to God.”

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Come chill with me on [Tumblr](https://isthatbloodonhisshirt.tumblr.com/).  
> (If it still exists by the time you read this lol)


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